


desire (i only want you)

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clay | Dream is So Whipped (Video Blogging RPF), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, i love that that's a tag, i mean my love for sad yearning songs was bound to come into my fics its just that now its angsty, no beta we die like me everytime i hear this song, well as slow burn as three chapters can be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I know you guys can’t force your music. So, I bargained with Corporate, and we came up with a brilliant plan! We’re gonna get Dream and George to announce they’re in a relationship.” Sapnap bursts into laughter.Dream walks out of the room, the door slamming behind him. George watches him go, but he doesn’t say a thing.alternatively; here, have a band au.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 80





	desire (i only want you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fearbehere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearbehere/gifts).



> song by jeremy zucker (desire) -> highly recommend you listen to it okay  
> this is for fear! you are amazing and lovely and deserve the world, but instead ill give you a band au <3
> 
> no beta so if there are mistakes you never saw them

“Listen, guys.” their manager starts. “Whatever is going on between all of you, it needs to get sorted out. Now. We don’t have time for this.” 

Sapnap only stuffs another chip into his mouth. He’s setting at the last pot on the table, his feet propped up beside the glass of pens Dream uses for songwriting. He had considered removing his feet, but he noticed Dream’s twitch of annoyance and promptly decided to leave his feet there. Besides, his feet were the least of the band’s problems. 

Bad, of course, tries to deescalate the situation. This had been coming for months, the tension noticeable to anyone. “There’s nothing going on between us,” he says with a nervous laugh. “We’re fine! You know I had to ask you about this collab idea I had-”

Bad stops at the face their manager makes. He knows there’s no stopping her now. She takes a stack of papers off of her clipboard. Printed out are fifteen news articles about the steady decline of “The Dream Team”. 

Dream doesn’t even make a comment from his corner of the room, his head against the wall and his eyes closed. George pulls the strings of his hoodie nervously. 

Sapnap sits up, staring at the sheets in confusion. He looks at the manager, back at his bandmates, and bangs his head against the table. The manager only raises an eyebrow, continuing her spiel. “You haven’t released an album in ages. A single would boost your merch sales too. You’re losing interest from your fans, and it’s gonna hurt when you guys  _ do  _ decide to put out something new.”

Even Bad looks appalled. Sapnap raises his head to weakly protest, “There’s a reason for that, you know. Maybe if we resolved the big proble-” The manager raises a finger to shut him up.

“I know you guys can’t force your music. So, I bargained with Corporate, and we came up with a brilliant plan! We’re gonna get Dream and George to announce they’re in a relationship.” Sapnap bursts into laughter. 

Dream walks out of the room, the door slamming behind him. George watches him go, but he doesn’t say a thing. 

Dream hates corporate, whoever they are, with a passion. They push themselves into his business far too much as it is, but this was going too far. “Haven’t released a new album in ages,” his ass. There was a very good reason for that, but how could he explain that to corporate?

Dream had made it clear to everyone around him he’d do anything, sacrifice anything for the sake of his band. It was his passion. It was everything to him. It is everything to him. George had this stupid way of changing everything Dream thought about anything. He had thought there was nothing he’d sacrifice for the sake of his band. He’s sacrificing, he’s been sacrificing for months, because of George. He knows it’s not fair to ask George to reciprocate his feelings. It’s why despite the fact he’s never hesitates to pull George, pull him into his antics, pull him into the band- he won’t push. 

When had his feelings started? When did everything change? He could place an exact moment, he thinks, as it hits him. 

The fifth of July. They were due onstage in exactly four minutes when the nerves hit him. Their new song was unlike anything he’d performed on stage before. He was shaking. He was so afraid they’d hate it, hate him. 

“Yo, stupid.” George had called from the side of the wings, motioning him over. He sat on some big box, his legs crossed. In his hand was a coke bottle he’d been sipping from. “Here.” He handed Dream the bottle. 

He had almost dropped it. His hands were shaking. George pulled him forward, grabbing the front of his hoodie. Dream looked down at him. George took the bottle from him again, taking a swig, then offering it back to him. “Drink.” He ordered, and Dream breathed, tipping his head back and taking a gulp out of the coke. 

He looked back down at George. “That was an indirect kiss.” He teased, and George pursed his lips in a mock pout. 

“It could be a real kiss.” He retorted, and Dream thought he might die from a feeling. Standing in the sides of the stage, almost brushing noses with George, George of the flushed cheeks and the high voice and the killer ability to play the guitar. George pulled Dream’s ear towards his mouth, still holding the front of his hoodie. “Don’t worry.” He whispered, “Your song is amazing.”

Dream hadn’t registered the fact the glass bottle slipped out of his hand ‘till George tore his gaze away from him to laugh. The stage hand motioned to them, telling them it was their turn to head onto stage. George jumped off the box, narrowly avoiding the shards of glass. “Well, then,” He pointed at the stage with his thumb, “let’s blow some minds.”

Dream remembers it in an instance. He remembers the way he came close to kissing George three times at the after party. He remembers the way he hid his feelings behind jokes instead. He remembers the way he ignored his bandmates’ knowing glances. 

He runs back into the meeting room, now empty, and picks up a gel pen, the one that feels just right when he’s in the mood to songwrite. 

_ Why do you cry with your hair tied up and my t-shirt on? _

_ I guess I'll be gone when the lease is up, _

_ Where did we go wrong? _

Sapnap finds him two hours later, surrounded by sheets of lined paper, humming a tune, a self satisfied look on his face. Sapnap knows that face. 

“You have a song?” he asks, almost in awe. 

“You have time to test out a percussion bit?” Dream only replies, his grin slowly spreading. 

Sapnap takes out his drumsticks from his overly large basketball shorts’ pockets. “Does Bad love muffins?”

George has two fears. Spiders, and corporate. Spiders is self explanatory. They have far too many legs and they go into other people’s personal areas which, frankly, is ridiculous and rude. (He tries not to think about the fact that Dream would laugh at this part in their conversation, saying something like “You’re bigger than them George, they’re scared of you.”)

His fear of corporate is probably something that Dream would agree with. Corporate is  _ insane.  _ They’ll fixate on the most miniscule things, noticing things that even the most meticulous critics would miss. The fact they hadn’t released an album in ages was pretty noticeable, though. George knows it’s his fault.

George also knows that the backlash they could get is scary. He’s afraid. 

They haven’t written a song because Dream can’t sit down and write the lyrics. He can name every single moment he could have said something. He could have assured him that he felt the same, but he needed time. He had tried. The words got stuck in his throat everytime.

That one after party. He had sat, his heart still racing with the rush that came with finishing a show. He leaned against the counter of the bar, grinning at Sapnap’s attempt to flirt with some guy. Dream leaned over, opened his mouth to say something. He slid down, sat down beside George. 

“You, uh, looked good today.” Dream admitted. His freckles were so lovely to stare at. George thought he could sit and spend a day just counting them. 

He gasped in mock-indignation. “So you’re saying I don’t always look good?” Across the room, Sapnap was failing to romance the person he had set his eyes on. 

“You looked especially good today,” Dream said honestly, and George wanted to slap him. How could he just say what was on his mind? Just like that?

“It was the makeup team.” George inhaled as Dream leaned in to get a better look at something. He could make out every fleck of gold in Dream’s eyes. 

“Your highlight’s rubbed off.” He muttered. George could do it. He could tangle his fingers in Dream’s hair, lips pressed to his. He turned his head away, saying something about getting another drink. He saw Dream’s face fall. He saw him change into a fake smile just as fast. George saw it all. He ignored it. 

Then there’s corporate, now. They want him to fake-date Dream? He couldn’t even say much against it. Corporate, despite their crazy nature, knew what they were doing. There had been so much speculation about their relationship, once upon a time. It’s a good PR move, George knows it. 

He feels guilty that it’s fake, that it's instrumented by their company. It’s easier, this way, It’s easier to accept it, he thinks. He picks up his guitar, starts to tune it to play some mindless song, when he hears Sapnap and Dream talking. Curious, he follows the source of the noise to their recording room. Sapnap counts off eight beats, and then they start playing a sad tune.

_ But damn, you look good in your photographs _

George had forgotten how much he loved the sound of Dream’s voice. 

_ Breaking my heart every time you laugh _

He had heard that before somewhere, where? Where had he heard it? 

“I love you. I’ve loved you for a while.” Dream had said, hadn’t he? 

George had laughed, thinking it was another joke, another stupid bit. 

“No, George.” Dream’s voice cracked. “You break my heart everytime you laugh for someone who isn’t me.” 

_ What do you desire? _

He knows. He knows and he doesn't think it’s within his reach anymore. 

He could walk in and test out some chords with them. Dream’s probably drafted his part already. But there’s this carefree look on his face that George doesn’t dare ruin. 

_ (Hold me down when I fall apart) _

Dream wakes up to the notifications of his own “relationship”. 

**SINGER DREAM CONFIRMED TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH BANDMATE**

**DREAMNOTFOUND CONFIRMED??**

**GEORGENOTFOUND OFF THE MARKET**

Dream sighs. If only. He logs onto twitter, sees “#Dreamnotfound” trending, and logs off. He covers his head with his pillow and groans. He sees the notification of a text from Sapnap. 

_ you good bro _ , his text reads. 

_ what do you think _ , is all he answers. He can’t explain himself to Sapnap, not now. He locks his phone and throws it in the general direction of the couch, ignoring the tell-tale thud that comes when he misses and it lands on the floor. 

He stares at his mirror, when he gets out of bed, for about ten minutes. Or less. Or more. He doesn’t actually know. In his mirror he sees the notebook he had scrawled the second verse of the song into at 4 a.m. He hasn’t sung like that in ages. He hasn;t sung like that since he wrote that song about George. He cringes at the way he had acted back then. Too reckless, to impulsive. George wasn’t into that, he reminds himself. 

He opens the band group chat, the one that’s sat unused for months because of the weird tension, and asks to meet up to try something. Sapnap responds with a thumbs up and some weird combination of other emojis, and Bad sends an enthusiastic “Yes!”

George doesn’t respond, but something tells him that he’ll be there. If he makes the effort to not just wear a hoodie and sweatpants, that’s nobody’s business but his own. 

George sees the headlines right as they begin popping up. He doesn’t sleep at all the entire night, waiting anxiously for some sign that it was all a dream. (It’s not, but he can hope.) The verse of the song that he heard d weighs so heavily on him. Why do those lyrics resonate like that? 

He washes his face. He makes his bed. He checks his phone for the time they’re supposed to meet up. Wasn’t it only a few months ago when Dream got drunk after a particularly long rut? Their ratings were down and he was burnt out. George didn’t want to leave him alone that night.

“Wanna stay the night?” George rethought his words as Dream smirked goofily. “Not like that.”

Dream had only sighed in agreement, his words a slur of gibberish George couldn't bother comprehending. He dragged Dream through his door, telling him to take off his shoes. 

Dream grabbed the neck of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Did George spend a few minutes more than necessary staring at his shoulders, the way they cursed in all the right places? Maybe. 

Dream only grabbed George and pulled him into his bed. “I was planning on taking the couch.” George whispered, poking Dream to see if he was listening.

“You’re warm.” Dream pulled George to his chest. That was fine. That was normal. Dream was a touchy person. George had tried not to think about the fact that he was that close to Dream. George found, though, that he slept better than he had in years. 

When Dream woke up you could barely tell he had been drunk. He complained about his hangover, but his mood was so fresh and bright George almost forgot he had to wake up four times to throw up. Dream moved around his house, finishing his morning routine. George, who had picked up the cup of coffee Dream had made from him, only sat back and watched him. 

What he would give to have Dream with him, now. 

_ Are we a work of art? _

He puts his earbuds on, trying to get the song out of his head as he gets ready for their band practice. (It doesn’t work.)

_ (In the end you'll understand) _

Dream is fucked. George could do anything and he’ll find it attractive. He walks into Dream’s apartment, his guitar case slung over his shoulders. Dream’s heart hurts. He’s so fucking lovesick. 

His hair is pushed back with the sunglasses perched on his head. Dream has no reason to find that endearing. He finds it endearing anyways. 

George is fucked. Dream could kill a man and he’d still think of him the same way. Hell, he’d probably find it attractive. The way his shirt fits him, the stupid flannel he has on top, the way every move he makes is so, so deliberate. George wants to slap himself. He’s a little too in love to do it. 

When they sing together, it’s the first time in months. The way their voices sound together. Sapnap stops drumming just to listen. He knows they don’t notice. 

_ Why do you cry with your hair tied up and my t-shirt on? _

_ I guess I'll be gone when the lease is up _

_ Where did we go wrong? _

**Author's Note:**

> edit: i am sorry i havent updated in ages i will soon


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